Emotionology on Asphalt: Why I Felt Energized at Mile 23

Running the 2026 Publix Atlanta Marathon, my 204th marathon — somewhere between exhaustion and clarity. That’s the moment I realized that Emotion Science, not pace, was carrying me toward the finish.

The Before Timeframe

The alarm went off at 3:00 a.m.

By 4:00 a.m., I was driving through dark Atlanta streets. By 6:00 a.m., I was standing at the Will Call window picking up my bib.

The race was scheduled for 7:15 a.m., but my corral—Section H—did not cross the line until nearly 8:00 a.m. I stood for almost an hour before taking a single step forward. Around me, runners shifted, stretched, checked watches, and recalculated finish projections. Energy was being spent before the race even began.

Standing in that corral is part of the race. It is the “before” timeframe of performance. Many runners burn emotional fuel there by tightening, calculating, and rehearsing outcomes. I conserved, and that conservation mattered.

The Publix Atlanta Marathon is not a flat course; it is a long negotiation with hills, heat, and whatever expectations you carried to the starting line.

When registration asks for a projected finish time, I always write five hours for Atlanta. Not because I cannot run faster, but because I respect the terrain. Atlanta does not reward ego. It rewards regulation.

Conservative seeding is not a lack of confidence. It is terrain-informed cognition. Hope must be realistic, pride must be regulated, and anxiety must be calibrated rather than suppressed.

Regulation on the Course

The early miles were controlled, with no surging and no theatrics—just steady pacing and attentive observation.

I sang from the first mile forward. Singing is not performance; it is pacing. Rhythm lowers perceived exertion, breath regulates stride, and voice steadies effort.

Between miles 13 and 15, we were in the Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCU) neighborhood. We passed through Clark Atlanta University, where sororities and fraternities lined the water stop with music blasting through speakers. I danced my way through that stretch.

Joy is a form of regulation. I did not wait for relief to celebrate. I inserted lift into strain.

From mile 15 onward, I began gradually passing runners who had seeded themselves in earlier corrals—A, B, C, and D. Many had started nearly thirty minutes before I did. As the hills accumulated and the temperature climbed, pacing decisions made earlier in the morning became visible.

There was no gloating. Each time I passed someone, I offered encouragement: “You’ve got this.” “Stay with me.” “How are you feeling?”

I saw so many runners struggling. I shortened my stride on inclines to encourage them to latch onto my rhythm. Some tried and some could not, but the point was not competition. The point was continuation.

The System Holding at Mile 23

The course that day moved from Clark Atlanta down toward Turner Field, up highway overpasses, past Georgia State University and the Olympic remnants, and back toward the Georgia State Capitol. Heat intensified and hills accumulated.

I never take water during a marathon. I take electrolytes because sodium balance matters under heat stress. Regulating emotions and physiological regulation are not separate. Many runners that day relied on water alone, but I executed the hydration strategy that I knew would keep me regulated mentally, physically, and emotionally.

Throughout the race, I recorded short video markers—Piedmont Park around mile 8, the halfway loop at 13.1, near the zoo around mile 20, and near the Georgia State Capitol just after mile 22. These were not social media moments. They were cognitive checkpoints.

By the time we approached the hill at mile 22 near the Georgia State Capitol, the strain in the field was undeniable. The hills were sharper and the sun felt heavier.

As I climbed the hill at mile 22, I recorded: “It’s hot. People are struggling, but I’m still feeling strong.”

I meant it, too!

By that point, I knew something simple and mathematical: Even if I had to crawl to the finish, I would still beat the six-hour cutoff. Early discipline had created margin, and that margin created calm that helped preserve my energy.

I did not feel protective, as in my emotions. I felt protected, as in my determination. The system that I had built - for over 35 years of running, including running every day for over 15 years - was holding.

Mile 23 did not feel like survival. It felt steady. From mile 23 forward the course did not soften. The demands of the course had not changed. Neither had my system.

The Finish Line Is Not the End

The final hills still demanded attention. Fatigue was real, but nothing inside me was negotiating with the distance.

I moved over the last highway overpass, back toward downtown, and toward The Home Depot Backyard. When I turned right into The Home Depot Backyard and made the final right turn around the crowd barrier, the finish line was simply there.

I was still singing.

Then, as I crossed the line, I danced.

I have danced at the finish of every one of my 203 previous marathons and 20 ultramarathons. It is ritual and continuity, a way of signaling that effort does not have to end in collapse.

Around me, some runners dropped to the grass, while others leaned against barricades with eyes closed and chests heaving. The instinct is understandable; the body wants relief.

Runners - especially those in the lead pack - who develop internal systems during a race often regulate their effort differently. They learn to respect the distance both internally and externally.

Stopping abruptly after prolonged exertion challenges circulation, while continued movement assists venous return. Regulation does not end at the finish line.

So I walked. I danced. I kept circulating.

Runners approached me and said they had heard me singing earlier and had tried to stay with me on the hills. They drew energy from the rhythm. They thanked me for the motivation.

Atmosphere is not accidental. It is built mile by mile.

The Emotionology Insight

This race - like all of my races - was not about speed. It was about structure.

From the moment I stood in the corral that morning, the decisions I made were not based only on my biomedical science training and physical ability. They were also guided by my Emotion Science expertise.

Regulation before the start conserved energy that many runners unknowingly spend while waiting.

Measured pacing through the early and middle miles allowed my system to hold even as the hills accumulated and the temperature rose.

Electrolytes supported my body under heat stress. Encouragement replaced comparison on the course, and ritual replaced collapse at the finish line.

None of this was about pushing through exhaustion. It was about regulating forward.

Wellbeing fueling performance, not the other way around.

Many runners that day were not only battling hills. They were carrying declared finish times, public expectations, and internal comparisons.

They were focused on external systems that influenced their emotions. Fuel emotions like pride and hope, as well as protective emotions like shame and anxiety.

Systems influence emotions.

Emotions influence decision-making.

Decision-making shapes outcomes—cognitively, affectively, motivationally, and physiologically.

When the system driving performance is calibrated internally, energy holds. When it is calibrated externally, energy can become scattered and wasted.

That is why mile 23 felt energized for me. The course had not become easier. However, the system that I had built before and during the race was still intact.

That is what sustained me.

Now It’s Your Turn

Moments like this are not limited to a marathon course. Every high-effort environment—leadership, education, business, research, or personal growth—requires systems that allow emotion and performance to work together rather than against one another.

That is the work of Emotionology Life.

Get to know Emotionology Life, our work, our research, and the language we are building at emotionologylife.com.

Let us design your personalized human work that AI can’t replace today.

Also, explore my new book Emotionology: From Aristotle to AI, and join me on Let’s Talk Emotionology, biweekly, on YouTube, where Emotion Science research is explored aloud, in context, and in real life.